Lament
by The Silvercat
Summary: A young wildcat is loathe to torture, and it is only after his latest victim that he finally decides to fight against it.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **An old fic I used to have up several years ago. Now it is revised and should read much better. I'm not sure if this should be 'T' or 'M' but I've got it on 'T' for now but I warn you: **Not for the faint of heart.**

**Chapter 1**

Light breathing could be heard, rising and falling with the slow motions of a creature in deep slumber. She suddenly groaned when she shifted uneasily in her sleep, unconsciously pulling the thin moth-eaten blanket tightly around her. Her free paw raked against the floor and her excessively bushy twitched in her now agitated sleep.

Her fur had been auburn before they had caught her, but now it was a mess of blackened dreadlocks. Blood staining the back of her brown traveling cloak told the tale of injury and left her head stained with an ugly dark crust.

_Squeeeeeeak clunk! _ The squirrel gasped and abruptly sat straight at the sound of a door opening and closing in a distant part of the castle. Calum released a shuddering breath and soothed her fur from the sudden fright. She huffed when she rubbed her arms and paws, attempting to relieve them of the ache that had since settled in. _Sleeping on this bloody stone doesn't help either,_ she thought as she altered her position, sliding to the floor in lieu of sleeping upright. It did little to comfort her frazzled mind and worn body though.

Calum's eyes fell to her wrists and grimaced at the inflamed scratches and marred skin. _Those fool soldiers! Can't even properly bind a creature,_ she mused, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Then she brushed the top of her head tenderly with a paw, wincing as she felt the puffy wound that caused a lancing pain through her skull with every touch. She glanced properly at her surroundings, and then scuffed her paws on the floor in agony of her capture, grimly dreading the treatment that she would receive: torture.

A shudder ran through her body when the word continued to echo in her mind and she desperately cast her gray eyes at the row of bars. A wild rage suddenly filled her and she flung herself at the crude iron, gripping them so fiercely her paws appeared bloodless as she attempted to pry the metal apart for an opening. Panic was soon replacing the rage, and then she tried to push her head through.

Calum could almost feel her skull shifting—molding—to conform into the rectangular space. But the pain! It was an excruciating and continuous wave that swept through her body.

"Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrgh," she howled after she pulled her head clear, wailing a vicious cry of anger and defeat. _This must be the end,_ Calum thought as she collapsed back to the floor and rubbed her head against it, in hopes that the cool stone might relieve the new ache in her skull.

_Chunk!_

Her eyes snapped open when she heard a heavy, wooden door squeak nearby. She closed her eyes when a weight of dread fell upon her heart. _Perhaps he will leave if he still thinks I'm asleep. _ Calum didn't try to look at the creature until their light footfalls had come to a stop—in front of her cell. _As if vermin could understand the courtesy of letting a creature sleep._ She slowly raised her head to more closely examine the beast who had entered, starting with the black boots that were scuffed from many years of use.

A movement in the corner of Calum's eye caught her scanning eyes and she noticed a long, striped and silver gray tail waving idly in the air as its owner attempted to keep it off the grimy floor. The air in Calum's throat caught and she almost chocked. She inwardly moaned in horror as her feelings of dread confirmed her beliefs. Standing before her was a wildcat.

She tilted her head, gazing over the muscular frame she knew was there, hidden under a fine black cloth that was sewed into a pair of trousers and a long-sleeved tunic. Her eyes caught a glint at his waist and she licked her lips nervous when she saw the sheathed knife at his waist. Finally, Calum forced herself to look into those bright green eyes which glowed at her from his sockets like searchlights in a bay. She studied his face carefully, noting the slight frown that furrowed his brow as he stared at her. But it was his eyes that she came back to and a vestige of hope began to fill her. There was no malice, hate, nor anger. There was no happiness either, but his expression was one of contemplation. Thinking. Analyzing. Calum couldn't put a word to it but it lacked hostility.

The moment stretched and after a long silence he gently said, "Glad to see you're awake. The King was worried you might die after all the blood you lost."

For a moment Calum considered a sickly charade that might spare her the pain, but the thought was dismissed immediately. _ He could see if I was lying. I don't imagine anything can get past those eyes._ She opened her mouth to reply but the words wouldn't come; her throat refused to work.

"Shh," he hissed gently. She jumped as he quickly bent down to her level to pass food—a stale piece of bread—and water through the bars. Calum snatched it from him and wolfed it down rapaciously. The silver-gray wildcat watched her solemnly until she turned back, and then he averted his gaze to the ground, the furrow on his brow a little more pronounced. She didn't look back at him until every crumb she found was in her mouth, licking her paws carefully.

"What's your name?" She was about to reply instinctively but then she caught herself. Her gaze sharpened and she locked eyes with him, trying to unsettle him. His expression remained unchanged and she only managed to find herself the unsettled one. _Why does he seem so emotionless?_ She wondered as her gaze dulled in intensity.

"Why should I tell you?"

He shrugged this question off with his own name. "I am Beckart. Everyone calls me Beck though." Calum remained silent, staring at the wall in front of her. Staring at anything but him.

"I know what you're thinking. When they're dragged in they all think the same thing. They consider it a fact: _'I'm going to be tortured.'_" The tingle of fear in her spine made her body shudder and her face paled considerably. He continued, unheeding of the fear oozing from her, "Well, let me say that you _are_ going to get tortured. You were here for something, sent by somebody. No one in their right minds would infiltrate this castle, unless someone was paying them." Again, he said this with no change of expression, even his tenor voice sounded flat, "I'm the one assigned to find out what that is."

She whipped her head around when she heard this. _ Him torture me? Is he trying to get me to say something without having to take me to the torture chamber? _ This cat was telling her this! _ Why?_ She couldn't bottle up her thoughts any longer.

"Why? Why are you telling me this?"

He evaded her question with one of his own. "Are you going to cooperate and tell me, without any pain, or do we have to do this the hard way?"

Calum shook her head in disbelief. Her gray eyes grew stormy with confusion, fear, and a little anger. "You think I am a spy?"

The young cat finally tore his green eyes from her and, for a moment, Calum thought she saw pity. "The king can think of no other reason for an outsider to enter his castle." He could tell from the look in her eyes that she had nothing of any value. He was almost certain there was a far less sinister reason behind this, but he sighed in defeat. "Then I have no choice." Turning away from her, Beck shouted down to the closed door, "Guards!"

It opened again for two creatures marching in step towards the wildcat that patiently waited for them at her cell. The two stoats saluted, muttering a "Sir", and then waited for Beck's orders. The wildcat looked at Calum with those brilliant green eyes again before he turned to the soldiers and nodded acknowledgement. She could sense his hesitation when he addressed them, but he finally ordered, "Take her to the torture chamber. I shall be awaiting your arrival."

They nodded back at him curtly and one of the stoats took a rusty key from a pouch on his own utility belt, and opened the door. The other stoat barged in instantly to block any chances of escape, and then roughly grabbed her by both of her arms. Calum had tried to dodge, but now she screamed and writhed, but was easily wrestled out by the bigger creature. He dug his claws in to keep a firmer grip as she attempted to bite and scratch his paws.

The other one saved her holder more strain by wrenching one of her arms out of his grasp and, together, the pair carried her down the cell and through the long hallways to another stone room. This one had half a score of torches on its surrounding wall, circling the area, and assuring the occupier that they would have light to work with. A table stood off to one side where various sharp instruments, knives, swords, and pricklers—barb ended tools—rested within reach. A chain on either side of the chamber stretched from there to the middle where clasps were open on the end to retrain captives while they were in interrogation.

The bigger of the two brute stoats held onto Calum while the other fished up a chain. _This is it,_ she thought and with another burst of energy she struggled to get away. Glee swelled her heart when she felt her arms slip out of the stoat's grasp, but he snatched them back and mercilessly dug his claws in again.

_Clink!_

_Nooooooo._ Calum moaned in despair. She didn't bother struggling as they put the second manacle on her wrist. The two beasts then left with triumphant grins on their faces, ready to guard the chamber should the young squirrel somehow break free and get past the wildcat.

She half-heartedly tugged on the chain for slack to relieve the feeling of being a wishbone for the wildcat, Beck, to pull apart at his leisure. What was only a few minutes felt like hours to Calum when the wildcat finally entered. She composed her face into an ever present glare, but there was no mistaking the trembling in her knees. If the chains had not been tight enough to keep her on her paws, she was certain her knees would have buckled to the floor by now. Sweat beaded on her forehead, running down her face until she shook the droplets off.

Beck ambled in with a surprisingly hesitant manner. He had left his boots elsewhere so that his bare paws were now gliding along the stone floor, but this gait was more like a shuffle, as though he dreaded what was to happen. He peered down his nose at her, standing almost a full two heads above her, but then he slashed the clasp on her traveling cloak and gently began removing her shirt. Calum shifted modestly, knowing she had no choice but to comply with his wishes. Even Beck appeared uncomfortable in this situation, carefully slashing both of the sleeves to her neck to remove the garment entirely until she was in nothing but her fur. Calum shivered as the cool air emanating from the stone walls sunk into her skin.

The young cat turned his back on her as he shuffled toward the table, taking as much time as he dared to pick through the tools on the table. Calum watched him pick up a leather whip, weighing it in his paws for a second before turning back to her. The young squirrel sucked in a quick breath and held it, readying herself for the coming blows.

But Beck continued to just stand there, staring off into another world like he had forgotten about her, letting the whip—that was when she noticed there were three leather straps on it—brush the ground. Calum's whole body quivered with the anticipation of three times the stinging blows, and her bulging eyes watched every movement of those three white switches.

Beck stepped back a pace and raised it above his head in a wavering paw. He stalled on bringing it down, but the far away look—was that sadness?—in his eyes disappeared. Calum closed her eyes.

The first rain of blows lashed across her back. She gasped and arched her back, trying to stay out of range, but the wildcat kept shifting the treatment. The second lash was across her legs, and then her abdomen and arms received harsh treatment. Calum kept herself from screaming, but her front teeth dug ferociously into her lip and tears streamed from her eyes.

After a few minutes, the pain became tolerable. Calum's mind recognized it as a constant buzz, isolating it off from the rest of her body. It began to anticipate the pain as a constant. Her body soon grew used to this and the buzz shrunk into a dull ebb that throbbed with each blow.

As Beck harassed her he fired questions at her, "Who are you with? What were you sent to do? Why are you doing it?" He stopped in three hit intervals to see if his torture had loosened her tongue, but she only breathed. Her eyes were closed as though as though she were sleeping and blood dripped from her lip, but she wouldn't answer.

Calum continued to languish in this state, reveling in the separation of her mind from her body. It blocked the pain thoroughly. She even began to believe that maybe she could get out of the torture intact; defeated, but alive. Then the dull throb suddenly shrieked wildly and a cry escaped her lips before she could bite it back. Her eyes opened to slits and she noticed that Beck now had a barbed tool in his paw. His other paw gripped the three switched whip limply and it lay idle by his side. Calum now understood that he would alternate between the two to disrupt the pattern and maximize the pain. _Merciless. Merciless and cruel, _she mused. Her thoughts now were coming slow and broken and she had a terrible time forming them.

This pattern began anew and she screamed ceaselessly. It did happen again, though not as distant this time; the buzz was there, pitching to a high note before lowering again with every stripe of the whip.

Suddenly it was hot. Sweat was pouring profusely down her body and she suddenly felt smothered in her own fur. Then cold. A violent shiver ran from the tip of her tail up to her head, and she felt her eyes roll in their sockets. Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. _What am I doing!? What's happening to me? Is this really it? _ These thoughts careened through Calum's head at meteoric speech as she tried to pull herself back reality. She focused on her body; it rocked back and forth in the chains and her bushy tail now filthy with soot and dirt dragged on the ground. A sick, painful wooziness hit her like a cannon shell and she was certain she was about to vomit. The pitch and yaw of her body made her stomach slosh and churn as though she were on a boat in rough seas.

Quite suddenly Calum was given a brief respite from the torture. The pain ebbed to a dull pulse in her body. She continued to sway in the chains, her knees virtually touched the ground with the weakness, and she desperately tried to soothe her roiling stomach. A steady groan issued from her gaping mouth, "Uuuuhhhhhh…"

"_Yargh!"_

Calum jolted awake, opening her eyes so wide they bulged from her head once more. An electrifying cold swept through her and chills broke out all over her body. Rivulets of water ran down her sides to pool at her paws. She shook her head drowsily, blinking with heavy eyelids as though she'd been preparing to drop into a long, painful sleep.

Immediately she spotted the new visitor. It was another wildcat, with the same bright green eyes, but there was something cold in the analyzing gaze that swept over her body. She shuddered when she stared back. His head even towered over Beck, but there was no mistaking the gray fur among the silver that lined his face. His aura was far more menacing than that of the younger one, but it was not difficult to make the connection. Was Beck his son?

The wildcat roughly grabbed her chin, forcing her head up and sideways to take a closer look at her. Her bulging eyes followed his solemnly. He snorted and then turn on Beck with anger alight in his eyes.

"Your treatment is too easy! She has hardly a scratch on her!" Calum gasped when she heard this. Long, deep gashes on her back, arms and legs spilled blood that ran down her body to accumulate on the floor. The stickler had left slight gouges in her sides that continued to ooze blood to the point where she was close to fainting.

Though the older cat was bellowing an inch from Beck's face, he took this in stride and he never changed expression. "Increase the treatment by ten. I want her hardly recognizable by the time you're done!"

With a snarl and a snap of his tail, the older cat swept out the door. An emerald cape whipped behind him as he went broadening his appearance. Calum's bulging gaze followed him till he swept out the door, closing it with a slam that she swore shook the castle's foundations. Groggily, and still in shock from her treatment, the squirrel turned her head to her torturer.

His expression had finally changed this time from a nonplussed, unemotional slate to a sad, pondering frown that reeked of indecision. It was another moment when he fixed on a point she could not see. Then he turned his attention to her. Those green eyes locked on hers and a certain understanding shot between them. Connected them. Beck was not allowed to keep her alive and her last minutes would be her most painful.

She dropped her head. _All of this over a loaf of bread and a flask of wine. I was so foolish. How could I have been so arrogant to consider breaking into a vermin castle? And now I know the price._

The next emotion that flashed across her face was one she hadn't expected; sympathy and acceptance. She felt sympathetic towards the cat that lived under the terror and scourge of the castle. The fate that was beheld in his eyes for her wasn't going to be an easy one, but she accepted it. _I hope Martin can forgive me my arrogance._ Although her body lightly trembled with fear, she nodded her head and closed her eyes in resign.

Beck stepped back to reform his will with closed eyes, and opened them. Calum shivered when she saw something in those eyes that wasn't there before. There was a sort of fierce determination that streaked his eyes, and Calum knew that he was preparing to end her final hour—minutes? Half hours? Quarters?—quickly.

A deep energy that had rested within the wildcat suddenly unleashed itself with wild, hard strikes from the whip. Beck didn't dart in with the prickler because he didn't need to; the lashings were now cutting into the bone.

Although Calum had accepted her fate, it didn't make her accept the pain. She howled long and wretchedly. As the salt water cut painfully down the sides of her face, it presented an almost feasibly, wonderful distraction. But this was beyond her mind's extent. The young squirrel now twitched involuntary as she put forth her entire mental capacity to block the pain; her entire body was on fire, though!

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" The pain was unbearable. Calum honestly believed her body was being shaken apart at the seams. It was during this torment when everything stopped—No, it slowed. She blinked in astonishment as something—her shadow or spirit—floated above her body. She watched in amazement and horror as the body continued to scream and pitch, as Beck continued to nail her with every blow. He struck deeply into the flesh to fleck at bone.

The pain was far away now. It was not even worth her attention. The electricity that she felt lancing through her body was reduced to a soft hum, which was more than bearable. Her vision had dimmed as though a gray filter were covering her eyes. She could walk freely around the room as well and felt as weightless as an air molecule. Her light footsteps weren't even audible on the stone floor when her morbid fascination in herself turned to Beck.

Calum was so taken aback by the horror-stricken face that met her, she recoiled. Her mouth hung agape, watching the tears slide down Beck's cheeks. The determined spark had been blown out and in its place was a grimace that seemed to deepen with each slow motion lash at her body. Upon seeing the stricken look, another wave of pity washed over the squirrel. A fiercer side of her tried to quash it, but the feeling of pity and remorse seemed to only grow stronger.

The connection between herself and the wildcat pulsed at her, stronger than she would've imagined. _I don't even know him. Why is this here? _ Calum asked herself as she tip-pawed toward the young cat and laid her paw upon his shoulder. She had to stand up on her claws, but she managed, hoping that some vestige of comfort would reach him. Again, she could not suppress the overwhelming weight of pity and mourning that filled her.

Finally, she took her paw away, smiled, and nodded. Calum did not quite understand yet, but she knew this cat had done her a favor or was going to do one. She could feel it more strongly than ever when the comfort she had channeled to him, was sent back to her with an equal amount of medicine. Though she was outside her body, she felt a sigh in contentment from the numbness that descended. While it was still awash in her spirit she stepped back into her home, the one that was on the very brink of death.

Calum opened her swollen eyes to look at Beck through a haze of tears. Her breathing was irregular and her chest was tight with numbed pain. She could feel the comforting anesthesia wear off when her wounds started to sear again, forcing her breath between her teeth in harsh gasps. She blinked dazedly.

Then, in a voice as hoarse as her breath, Calum whispered, "I…only…wanted food. I never…meant this." Her eyelids closed for the last time and her head sunk to her chest, but Beck's last words still reached her through the gray haze that drifted over her quietly.

"But my oath won't allow me to back down."

A small smile crossed her face at what he said. Blood still ran from her scores of deep wounds, but a strange light-headedness was flooding her mind and killing the pain. Even as she looked at the wildcat with failing eyes, she could feel her body slow shutting down. With a final sigh, as though in contentment, Calum's body stiffened and then went limp.

Soon one less creature was breathing.

All was still within the room of Death as Beck had come to know it. After the death of his latest victim, he stepped back to watch the body drain of life and he would reflect on all the beasts he had killed. He'd had to!

And with each death he would lament. He would lament over the dozens of other victims that died horrible, painful deaths at his paws. Each time and every day, he would pick his mind apart in slow self-destruction unable to silence his mind as it constantly screamed at him, _Why didn't you try to help her?_

As always the answer led back to his father.

The wildcat was old, but more savagely guile than his own son, Beck. There were two other sons besides him and all of them had turned out with varying degrees of nastiness. He recalled his younger, almost infantile days, when his mother was waging constant verbal battles with her mate over the raising of the sons. She had won several skirmishes, but it was his father who had won the war.

He smiled ruefully to himself when he remembered how the conflict had ended. His mother had eventually died in an 'accident,' but every creature down to the last earthworm knew otherwise. After that, he'd been exposed to the very lifestyle his mother had fought so hard against.

There was still some vestige of sweetness that Beck carried. Despite the terrible effort his father had put into him and the incredible pain, Beck still retained part of it. He sheltered it from those hurricane force winds, clinging tenaciously to the last bit of light he possessed.

Beck continued to smile as he stared at the corpse thinking,_ It feels like it's my father's life pursuit to break me. In every way possible. _ The first victim Beck was meant to torture, he flat out refused to raise the whip to the poor beast. His father turned on him instead, leaving long gaping stripes on his back that his fur had finally grown over and the victim was summarily murdered. After that incident, Beck realized there was no way for the victim to escape their untimely death.

_Next time, I'll help the prisoner. Next time, I'll die for them, and make sure they get out. Rest in peace, little squirrel. You've earned it. _ With these silent words, Beck stepped over to the victim and unchained her.

The guards were supposed to carry the body out, but Beck always did it himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **The rating has not changed, but tread carefully. Still dark with whispers of suicide.

**Chapter 2**

The young, silver wildcat lay sprawled on his thin cot staring up at the ceiling. Only two candles on the crooked bed stand served as light, their light flickering and falling on the walls in vague shapes that haunted his dreams. Though the occupant remained quiet and undisturbed, he could not seem to find the rest he needed.

Beck stared emotionlessly into his scarred and calloused paws. Their black pads were scored with creases and blisters from long use of the whip, from torturing far too many victims. A grimace pulled back at his lips as he struggled to contain the emotions he so desperately wanted to hide.

_I would rather die than kill another creature like that again. _

The words had long sounded hallow to his years, a motto that had fallen out of use after he failed to live up to it time and time again. It was not without lack of soul searching. Meditation helped to ease the burden in his heart, but since the victim before this squirrel its effectiveness had started to diminish. Suicide had often crept its way into his mind, much like a monster crept out from under its bed to devour its innocent victims. But almost as soon as it entered his mind, he banished it in disgust as he thought, _I__ don't deserve the paradise of eternal sleep. _ Soon the cycle would start anew, and he could not help but wonder if his death could at least spare at least one or two other souls from the same fate as countless others.

_What is the point of torturing? _He sneered, _Nothing more than a thinly veiled excuse to savagely defile a beast, to appease the violent rage. _More often than naught the beasts were innocent wanderers, who had unknowingly trespassed on Markot territory until they were ambushed by a waiting guard. Those unfortunate and gullible enough to wander into Markot's land were never seen again.

The guards usually seemed to catch them in the dead of night, when they slept under the blanket of stars without realizing the danger in the deceptively peaceful land. When they awoke they found themselves staring into a wall of arrowhead spears born by a squad of weasels and stoats.

The innocent ones never fought. He supposed that they _all_ felt they would be released when the ruler and his sons learned they had nothing. The comforting thought left all of them the moment they passed through the double doors of the fortress wall. He had seen their faces crumple, even as the brave ones held their chins up in an obvious if not truthful show of bravery. At least half of his victims had attempted to persuade him into releasing, but always his words were the same, _I can't let you go. My oath won't allow it._

_Why not save a few lives, Beck? It might satisfy the Gods to see a few innocent souls escape this pit of hell. As of now, you strive to be a mere cog in this machine, deflecting responsibility. Hardly a cat of noble heritage, _a small voice in the back of his head whispered to him. He swallowed but could not deny himself the truth. The thought of freeing someone had grown more appealing with each victim, but just when he'd rallied himself for the fight, the consequences would loom over him as a gigantic, shaggy beast. The luminous eyes of the creature would stare down at him with disdain and impudence, daring him to climb its sides and defeat it.

His eyes would go wide and his mouth agape when he stared at precisely what he faced. The sword would clatter to the ground when his claws went numb, and he obediently and humbly dropped to all fours and crawled his way backwards as though he were an insect that did not deserve his attention. _No, I can't! He'll torture me in the same manner as I do them. _The battle would rage on and on, again and again, but in the end he shrank back to lick his wounds and cower in the face of the colossus.

_Am I simply going to live out each day like this? Always regretting the deaths of those poor innocents at my paws? There comes a point when it is no longer on his paws, but mine. Why can't I do this?_

_He will torture me, he will break me, and then he will kill me. A slow death, much like the ones I give captives._

_It's nothing less than what you deserve._

Beck mulled this over in his head, twisting on his bed tried to find a comfortable position. The last thought shot through him like a bolt of lightning and his eyes snapped wide open.

His fear fumbled, trying to placate him into leaving the sword where it was on the ground, consequences be damned. Beck stiffened and narrowed his eyes at the colossal beast rising above him. His mouth firmed into a determined line and he clenched his paws until they trembled, and then he pull his shoulders back and walked over to pick up the sword yet again.

_Do you really care about your father enough to defend his oath? He has made it his life's goal to torture you and everyone else around you. This circle of suffering needs to stop._

The thought was all Beck needed to gain the confidence to scale the mountain. The strange and colossal creature disappeared in front of his eyes and he found himself back in his cold and windowless room. He continued to peer through lidded eyes, studying the dull gray stone above him. His thoughts had returned back to the squirrel. She had been so fearful after the guards had shackled her to the wall that he thought she might faint, but something had kept her alive.

There was something in her thin young body that had kept her alive through all the pain. When he first met eyes with her, he knew she would attempt to stand by the characters of the old tales, to stare back at death unflinchingly like they had. Even when her knees trembled and her wounds profusely bled she maintained an indomitable spirit, and it was sometime near the end when he felt a shift between them

During many torture sessions when the victim was teetering off the precipice of their life, their vision would suddenly clear and they would whisper of the Immortals beyond the gate. _They are calling me. Do you hear them? Maybe it's not as bad as they say. _Some of them would then smile peacefully before their eyes closed, never to be opened again. Beck had never found another sight more disturbing.

As much as he tried to keep his expression a blank face, his body often betrayed him. His eyes widened in fear and he stepped back from the corpse, fully expecting the body to disappear in front of his eyes, and then feel the cold, unflinching fingers of Death wrap around his heart in compensation for the suffering of the poor soul.

The squirrel had been different. She had never gone through any of the usual stages and, yet, he had felt something there at the end. It was her. Like the warm glow of the sun on his skin, her presence had suffused the room with a similar warmth. He'd had to fight with all of his being to keep his façade with the whip rising and falling. She had still howled from the pain and her eyes rolled in her sockets, but there seemed to be a hollow quality to her voice.

The whip in his paw had fallen hesitantly when a sharp cold seeped into his body. His eyes roved the room until he thought he caught a glimpse of the squirrel standing next to him with a pitying gaze. She was gone in the next instant, so quickly he was certain it was merely fanciful hallucination, but then a comforting warmth soothed his despairing soul.

He still felt the lingering remnants of that which had caused his body to shudder at the strange feeling. A pulse pounded not unpleasantly in his mind and he sent the feeling back to wherever it came from.

It was with much force of will that he raised the whip to strike her again. Clarity returned when the tears washed out of his eyes and he choked on his next breath. She would not be alive for much longer. Just as the whip dug three stripes across her stomach, he felt a sympathetic ache in his own

Even now, as he wavered on the verge of sleep, Beck shook his head. _Should I consider this a sign of the Immortal's desires? _It was a feeling especially foreign to him. It was a hard lesson learned that came with a powerful sting of loneliness to reach the realization that he was alone in this world. Even now he scoffed at the idea and could not keep the chuckle from escaping.

Beck continued to smile even as his eyelids drooped. Just as he had struck the squirrel to death, he had embraced the agony that had lanced through him. _Have I always been such a glutton for punishment? _Real pain. He had forgotten what it felt like, yet the memory of his first act of impudence remained as sharp and clear as if it had happened yesterday. The same whip he had used on the squirrel and his other victims had turned against him that one moment when his father controlled it. Bloody claw marks appeared all over his body, even as he writhed in agony on the floor, screaming so forcefully his voice had gone hoarse by the end of his punishment. _I will do anything! Please, make it stop! Don't kill me please! _ He would never forget the cold smirk of satisfaction on the old cat's face as he begged subservience at his footpaws.

Beck shook his head in self-disgust. _I was so weak. I would have swum in a river full of pike if it meant not getting tortured, but experience has taught me otherwise. _

He sighed in frustration, but the cunning smile soon returned to his face and he whispered, "I must come up with a plan. The next victim could come tomorrow. I need to be ready!"

The young cat sat up quickly a determined expression back on. Disregarding his sleep for the moment, Beck grabbed his boots from the side of his bed, slipped them on, and was soon walking the stone halls.

He was going to the torture chamber.

The walk felt dreadfully much to his quiet loathing. He did not delay on entering when he finally reached the door and, after lighting a candle, he shut the door. He shuddered as he looked around the room, utterly repulsed to find it missing a stain of blood on the floor that hid the sinister intent of the room. Steeling himself once more, he walked over to the stone grating inlaid in the floor on the far side and felt a smile curl his whiskers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Thank you Jade Tealeaf and Zaran Rhulain for the reviews. I greatly appreciate them. :)

**Chapter 3**

Beck was awake the entire night as he made his preparations. There were five or six times in an hour that he would stop his tinkering to listen to the castle around him. He was most fearful then, pricking his ears and cocking his head to listen.

He was usually met with silence, but once or twice Beck imagined hearing the soft brush of paws against stone or the distant boom of a door closing. Silence would reign still, as the guards only stuck to the quarters of the living.

The torture chamber was an entirely windowless, dank, and scummy room that rarely held the living. The cells were in similar condition and had also been inspected several times for escape routes and were deemed impenetrable. If a prisoner did manage to make it through the cell bars, it would have to go through the dining hall full of soldiers, across the grounds, and finally over a mighty fortress wall. None had yet made it beyond the walls, but Beck intended to.

The day after the squirrel's death, Beck wandered aimlessly through the halls. It was a ritual he did often after 'interrogations,' unable to suffer the closed space of his bedroom. This morning was no different and no beast looked at him twice, but if they were to look closer they would have noticed his quick strides were not without purpose. He roamed the entire castle, scouting the terrain and examining the fortress for any otherwise unperceived weaknesses.

Although he had worked through the night without food, Beck waived breakfast, which was another routine after a torture. He dared not raise suspicion in the dining hall. Any unusual behavior would catch his vicious father's eye and Beck felt that he already knew more of him than he really was comfortable with.

Through the course of the morning Beck encountered the warlord twice. Each time he had flattened his back against the wall, stiffly saluted, and he kept his face carefully schooled. He refused to drop the stance until Arik was out of sight, and then would continue his rounds, unperturbed.

While Beck was walking through the corridors before the afternoon repast he was not so fortunate to escape his father's attention. The young wildcat was quietly gliding along a third floor passage, unsheathing and sheathing his claws whenever he set his footpaws down. As he had done all morning he continued to eye the nooks and crannies of the castle, the rotation of the guards, and the architecture of the rooms he passed, until a pine marten roughly Beck's age, and the closest creature to a friend he had, turned the corner behind him and shouted, "Master Beckart!"

The cat whirled around. Before he knew it, he was bearing his teeth in a hiss and the fur on his back stood on end beneath his tunic. Upon seeing who it was, he took a paw to his head and attempted to smooth the fur on it, and then he drew a deep breath before snapping, "There's no need to yell, Kanus! What do you want?"

Kanus licked his lips and the wildcat noticed his eyes darted around the passageway in alarm, and his pace slowed as he approached. When he was within whispering range of the cat, he lowered his voice and said, "Master Markot would like a word with you in his chamber, sir. Is your job taking its toll, sir?"

The silver wildcat blinked in confusion, but then he smoothed his face over quickly and replied in a calmer tone, "Not at all. Why do you ask?"

The short, dark brown marten shrugged his small shoulders and fell in step beside Beck. He was entirely too petite, a puny creature that Lord Markot had not even deemed worthy of training as a soldier and now served as a slave. Kanus' black eyes blinked innocently at Beck, giving him the appearance of a kit speaking to its father, "You were irritable with me, Master. I assumed it was your job, sir."

Beck flinched as Kanus addressed him with 'Master', a title the wildcat abhorred and felt ill-suited for. But he continued walking, and said in the same flat voice he used with his victims, "I was startled is all, Kanus. You should know by now my hearing is very acute. And please don't call me 'Master'."

Kanus nodded quickly. His black eyes reflected something of the sadness Beck was feeling, but the wildcat offered a small smile and the fear appeared to lighten. Then Kanus said, "Yes, sir, but I need to maintain formality. Do you mind my calling you 'sir'? Also, I'm sorry for shouting, but your father—I thought he was going to skewer me!"

"Huh," Beck grunted acknowledgement. It was not unusual to hear this of either his father or his friend; the marten thought everybeast was out to get him. The wildcat was unsurprised by his fear. A servant tended to become severely paranoid when working as a servant for a warlord—they heard vital information and often had short life spans.

The rest of the short walk was spent in silence. Kanus kept licking his lips anxiously and Beck simply stared ahead of him in thought. He was only shaken out of them when they stopped in front of a heavy oaken door. Kanus reached out to grip the metal handle, hesitating briefly to mutter 'good luck' and gave him a wink, and then he swung the door wide and stood back. Beck stepped through swiftly and allowed his eyes to rove the room: a plush red carpet led to an ornately carved, wooden throne and a pair of tapestries hung between the only two windows, which cast gray light into the room. It was quite small and sparse for a room of a warlord, but Arik Markot could never stand many creatures in his presence and dared not to show off his treasures in fear of sticky claws. Only his trusted advisors, his sons, and a handful of servants ever entered here.

Lord Markot awaited Beck's arrival in front of his chair, glaring off into some dimension of his scheming mind. Instead of the usual line of commanders and captains they were alone, save for Arias, Markot's oldest son, who stood beside their father and watched the newcomers in good humor. It was a far cry from the ruthless disposition of the wildcat sitting next to him. Lord Markot's expression could've soured milk, which caused Beck to tense at the obvious electric hostility crackling in the room.

Kanus blocked his view momentarily as he marched toward his Master, finally dropping to one knee. He averted his eyes to the plush red carpet as he spoke, "Master Arik Markot, I have brought the youngest heir as you have requested. Master Beckart has been escorted to your presence." Beck bowed merely in respect of formality, but took it as an opportunity to smooth his features into perfect impassiveness.

Arik flicked his eyes to his son who continued to stare at the floor. He stepped around his servant—who dared not move until otherwise commanded—and studied Beck for a moment before he said, "Look at me, Beckart."

_He used my full name. This is undoubtedly a reprimand._ Beck slowly straightened his back and brought his eyes up to look at the fiery ones of his sire. Arik bent down level to Beck, making the wildcat certain the green eyes were searching him for the emotion and conflict he wished to instill in him. His face and eyes unveiled nothing, but he almost grimaced at the thought that flitted through his mind next, _And I will reveal nothing!  
_  
Arik then hissed in a soft voice, "Your mind is on that prisoner you killed last night."

Beck blinked in surprise, but his paws shuffled on the clean, red carpet. His insides twisted painfully as he stared into his father's eyes, futilely attempting to beat down the panic that was ruining his new found calm. A desperate thought streaked through his mind and it allayed his overwhelming fears, _Govern yourself, Beckart! He couldn't know what you have been doing.  
_  
Arik smirked assuredly as he analyzed Beck, convinced he had his son at the end of a rope. "Did you even try to get information out of that wench before she died?"

Beck licked his black lips in imitation of Kanus, beginning to feel cold sweat on the pads of his palms. His eyes widened in plain fear that he was, again, struggling to conceal. "Of course, I did! She claimed she was stealing food!"

Arik had begun circling Beck like a pike circling its prey and he smiled nastily. The ugly temper was still there, rippling on the surface, but the satisfaction of making his son sweat helped quell it. "I saw her body, Beckart, and since you never reported to me immediately after disposing of her, you obviously didn't extract any information! You must be losing your touch, son."

The fear Beck felt suddenly inflamed into a burning anger that charred his insides. His voice shook with the next sentence he said, barely managing to conceal the anger under what he hoped sounded like fear. "Father, torturing for information is not as easy you seem to believe it is. Most of the time the information is useless to us! They are innocent beasts that are not a part of a conspiratorial organization."

Beck barely saw the movement to his left, and then he gasped when he felt the stinging slap of his father's paw. He whipped his head away from Arik, wincing as the throb rebounded in his skull. He bit back a retort, continuing to feel the anger lick at his insides. _Stay steady, Beckart,_ he soothed himself.

The cat that had maintained his position by the throne quickly darted in to divert the situation, daring to step between their father and his prey. "Father, that is enough!" Arias' good humor was quickly replaced with a challenging glare. He was a fraction shorter than Arik, but his presence radiated the same volume of strength, furiousness, and competence.

Arik altered his course around Beck smoothly, not even allowing his expression to change in front of his sons. Beck could still feel a raging fury emanating from the cat as he strode away, which he was pleased to feel matched his own rage. Arik hissed an inaudible sound, but it must've been a command to Kanus for the marten scrambled from the floor to his post next to the throne.

"Beck?" He snapped his head back to his brother. It startled him to see that his brother's green eyes, customary in the family's bloodline, stared back at him with compassion and what Beck thought was the weight of wisdom. His rich voice resonated as he continued on, "Beck, I—"

Beck cut him off though in a voice—much to his shame—that was hasty and shrill, "Arias, you know he doesn't have any notion as to how painful and challenging torturing is. Even the cowardly creatures take time to pick information out of! That squirrel last night was no different from the rest of the cowards, but she refused to say anything! At least…anything he would like to hear."

"Beck, calm yourself," Arias replied sternly. The wildcat quieted and drew in deep breaths, but his tail continued to twitch nervously as he held it above the ground. Arias waited until Beck ceased fidgeting and responded, "I know how you feel, Beckart. Don't think I haven't noticed your behavior after an interrogation. The wear and tear is starting to affect your appearance as well. I can see how thin your face has become and the dullness in your eyes. You are starving yourself!"

Arias turned away from Beckart to Arik Markot, who was standing once again in front of his throne, glaring at the pair of them. "Master Markot, I request as a servant kneeling to your will to relinquish Beck of his job, and give his mind and body another one. Your attempt to bend him to your will is not working. Instead of destroying it, you are destroying his body! Once he is dead he'll be out of your control. Do you really want that, sire?"

The leash had nearly slipped off the collar. Arik's voice was now a guttural growl low in his throat and his stare was even harder to withstand, "What? Go easy on my son because his body is weak? Should that brat of mine die any death it will be as despicable as the ones his victims endure!"

Beck could no longer hold back his anger and retorted, "You are not in control of my life, Master Markot! Why don't you pull your head out of your delusion and try your own paw at torture. Let's see how the victims react in your stead."

_Crack!_ Lights flashed in front of Beck's eyes when he found himself violently pushed to the floor, where his skull smashed against the stone. Arik had swept up to him with speed that belied his age and now brought his paw across his face, leaving three deep, gashes. He opened his mouth in a hiss of pain when suddenly the pressure of Arik's boot cut the wind to his throat.

"Not in control of your life, am I? If that's so then why don't you keep me from crushing your throat?" He said and peered down at the young wildcat with a malicious smile. Beck thrashed on the floor, clawing at the fine leather protecting the offending footpaw and his tail whipped wildly behind him. As wide as he opened his mouth, he could not get the air that he needed and the world started to fade as black clouds swept over his vision. His paw which was powerful from holding the whip, slid away from the boot as his limbs grew heavy. He could barely see his brother and Kanus trying to move the boulder atop him, and his ever acute ears hardly managed to hear Arias and Kanus screaming angrily and shrilly in the closed room.

"Father! No, stop it! Father! You cannot kill Beck!"

"Master! Oh, Master Markot, you're killing him. He's suffocating! Please, Master, please, sir, stop it!"

Darkness blotched Beck's vision and he felt his body shudder in a final spasm, unwilling to accept the fact of his death. Then air suddenly flooded back into his lungs. Fresh, sweet air lifted his chest and brought feeling back to his muted senses. Though now he could feel the throb of the scratch and the soreness of his throat, he was still alive.

He narrowed his eyes at the faces of Kanus and Arias hovering over him, struggling to keep focused even as they swam in and out of his vision. Fear twisted their faces and even as Beck tried to allay it with a smile, he could not keep from blacking out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Terribly sorry for the long wait, but you know how school is. University is double that.

**Warning: **Just as dark and possibly even more graphic than the previous chapters. I am not responsible for any ensuing nightmares (if any). Enjoy!

**Chapter 4**

The gray wall was a blur as Beck ran alongside it. The soft pounding of his feet sounded impossibly loud to his ears as he continued down the corridor that seemed to stretch forever. His breathing was harsh in the utterly deserted hallway and he could feel the hairs rising on the back of his neck. He glanced back over his shoulder. Nothing was there, but he could not shake the feeling that something was chasing him.

He knew the castle inside out, but something was different. The walls were impossibly wide and the ceiling disappeared into thick blackness. The doors were the same dark wood inlaid with metal, but they seemed to tower over him as if he'd shrunk to the size of an insect.

_Pat, pat, pat, pat, pat, pat._

The echo of his bare paws filled the hallway, rebounded on him and he shook his head in irritation of the sound. Down, down, left, right, right, and Beck suddenly found himself in the dining hall, rushing past tables and benches. Half-eaten bird's meat lie forgotten and cold on trays all around, there was an overturned bowl of soup dripping onto the wooden bench, and fruit lay scattered on the floor as though dropped in haste. He could see that even a few benches had overturned. All the while he pelted down the aisles toward the front entrance, gasping at the knife that pierced his chest with each breath. He ploughed into the heavy front doors with his shoulder until the weight eventually gave away, and he was on the grounds.

Finally, his paws came to a stop as though they found what they were looking for. Beck doubled over during the respite, his paws on his knees as he struggled to draw breath. When the pain dissipated he opened his eyes and he froze.

The grounds of Castle Markot were a graveyard. Woodlanders and vermin alike lay sprawled around him, their weapons also lie strewn and broken. He spotted Arias just a couple feet from where he stood, the other cat's eyes wide and glazed in death. Kanus lie on his stomach next to Arias, his limbs twisted grotesquely and he was certain there would be a horrible pain contorting his face if he could see it. Bile rose into Beck's throat and he was forced to turn away, only to see his father pinned up against the dark brick wall by two spears. The old wildcat's head lolled inanimately against his chest. His sightless eyes would never pin any beast with his stare again. He could never threaten, he could never fight—again—and Beck would never have to face his wrath again.

Beck though the sight of Lord Markot's corpse would lift the years of torment from his heart, and he could finally feel that there was indeed justice in the world. But this? He felt no sudden rush of freedom and he felt his shoulders sag as he thought, _Now I have to bear the accusing stares of my victims alone. _ As much as he had despised Lord Markot, he now no longer had an output for his personal and it came around back to him. He sank to his knees and moaned.

Beck jumped when he was certain he had felt another presence in the area. He turned a complete circle to see—nothing. Nothing save the hundreds of corpses scattered all around, but the feeling had not dissipated and only seemed to grow thicker.

"Is anyone there?" He called aloud to the empty grounds. His voice died almost immediately, as though swallowed up by the empty void.

As he looked around, he felt the fur stand on his back with the eerie silence and growing presence. Sweat beaded his paws as he slowly breathed in and out, his roving green eyes searching desperately for the answer to the growing tension. He began stepping backwards slowly, completely unaware of where he was going.

Then something grabbed his footpaw.

He glanced down feeling like his heart was pounding out of his chest. A cold numbness overtook him as he stared down, his mouth agape in a mixture of horror and fear. A mouse had grabbed his paw and peered upward at him with a skeleton grin. Beck could see the bloody hole from where a spear had pierced there from his stomach.

"Hi, Beckart, did you miss me?"

The wildcat struggled to work his mouth when a sudden bolt or recognition pierced through his head: this was the first victim he had ever torture to death.

"We've missed you. We were so certain you'd be joining us soon. Come stay with us," he rasped in a choking voice, the awful grin never leaving his face.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he whipped his head around.

"Master Beck, it's me! Don't you recognize me?" Kanus' head lolled on his shoulders like a broken and his blood red eyes rolled with a similarly skeletal grin plastered all over his face. Now he could see that his fur and skin had been pulled away from one side of his face to reveal the bones of his and the working tendons.

Beck's voice suddenly returned. "Aaaaaaaaaaaahh! Get away from me!" He stumbled back before Kanus could actually grab his ankle, but when he tried to step away his first victim kept a steel grip. "Let me go! Stop this!"

When he looked around the grounds, he could see all the woodlanders were now stirring and groaning, carefully crawling their way over to him.

"Come with us, Beck. Come with us!" Arias' corpse had now dug his claws into Beck's thigh.

"You're supposed to be here. Come stay with us."

Beck felt another form tackle his waist and he staggered against the onslaught, trying so hard to break their grip from him. He glanced up once and jumped when he thought he saw the faded blue shadow of the squirrel with that pitying look on her face once more.

"No, no, stop it! Please let me go!" Darkness swallowed his vision when they pulled him down, but he continued to lash out with his arms.

"Master Beck! Beck, wake up!"

It took a moment of fighting through the dark before his eyes finally snapped open and he found himself not out on the grounds, but lying on a cot. Once his breathing slowed, he focused on the beast next to him who was nursing a bruised jaw.

"Blimey, Beck, you pack one hell of a punch. If Arik knew, I think he might be a little more frightened," Kanus said, even as he worked his jaw.

Beck sighed in disappointment and fell back onto the bed. "I'm so sorry, Kanus. All I seem to do is hurt the beasts around me."

"We won't have any of that rubbish," another voice said from across the room and Beck glanced past Kanus' body to see a wildcat was curled on another cot across the way.

"Arias?"

"Who else would it be? Surely Rusit would not help tend to your wounds." Though firm the voice held a trickle of amusement. Rusit, the second oldest son of Markot, would sooner slit your throat than attempt to heal any beast, family or not.

The thought made Beck frown, reminding him of how odd Arias was acting of late. Though his eyes wished nothing more than to sleep, his head buzzed with questions and his throat throbbed. The curiosity of Arias' change burned above all and so he asked, "Arias, what has happened? You've been acting…very oddly. You used to have father's mercilessness down to the letter," he flinched as his voice rasped and the pain in his throat seared. He muttered "water" hoarsely and he fixed his sleepy gaze onto Arias as surely as it would if he were awake.

Arias matched him stare for stare in the time Kanus was getting the requested water. The older cat gave in first, though, sighing heavily when he began searching for an escape, but there was none to be had. He submitted to telling the truth.

"Beasts change depending on the experiences they've had. Not too long ago I was scouting with the border patrol. It'd been a few days and we hadn't found any creature lurking about. We were marching back towards the castle when we stumbled across a young squirrel only a couple seasons old."

"Since the patrol were under father's orders to take every creature, they would not listen to me when I said we should just release him. When we got back Captain Sari, that female pine marten I had respect for, told father about what I had tried to do. For my punishment he made me torture the kit, then execute him."

"Beck, it was more horrible than I ever imagined. I only lashed the child for a few minutes before I could suffer it no more. It seems I'm too weak since I started crying the moment I heard his first scream. High-pitched and terrified. I couldn't endure. I stopped lashing him, sat down, and cried every last shred of mercilessness and hate out of me."

"While I sat there I remembered that you were the interrogator. I never thought of you as tough on any level—you were weak. It was what father said—but after what he forced me to do, I became appalled that you hadn't broken as I had. I was only able to hurt a child for little more than half an hour, and you have run through countless victims in the span of—is it two years?" The wildcat shrugged his shoulders and feel silent for a moment. When he continued, it was a low hum in the silent chamber.

"After I was finished weeping I smuggled the child out of there. I refused to see him executed. After we crossed the border by a mile I tended to his wounds and told him to never come back."

"I was brought back by another border patrol and…well, let's say I'd never seen father so angry," he said with a barking laugh. "He lashed me good. Enough for me to stay in bed for the next three days and limp for two weeks after."

Beck had been listening raptly to his brother's story, his eyes bulging and his expression gaping. How had this chain of events completely escaped him? This must have been during one of his darker moods when he cut himself from the rest of the castle for days.

Arias only broke the silence by taking a long gulp of water, and then he slowly rolled back the sleeve of his left arm to reveal a long, dark hairless scar. It stretched from the join to his elbow, gleaming dully in the candlelight. Beck nodded and grimaced.

Arias nodded. "Yes, this is one of the lashings father gave me. I have more too on my back, but I'm sure you already knew that." There was a moment of silence between the two before Arias turned to Kanus, who was still taking the hot sopping washcloth and rubbing Beck's head and throat gently.

Arias studied the small pine marten for a moment before asking in his now soft voice, "Kanus, has there been any word from Lord Markot?"

"No, sir, he hasn't summoned me since we brought Beckart to your room. Forgive me, sir, but I believe he's up to something."

Beck blinked and finally took in his surroundings. The room was more warmly furnished with a granite fireplace where a fire crackled and burned on one side of the room. Pictures that Beck was sure Arias had sketched and painted hung slightly crooked above the hearth, their edges curling inward from age. A polished cherry red wood desk stood next to the bed with papers and quills lying atop it. The ash and charcoal collected from the fireplace lay in a wooden bucket on the desk for writing and drawing. Lastly, a huge emerald green rug with white border covered most of the stone floor.

Arias was still mulling over Kanus' suggestion before he nodded in agreement. "Call us by our usual names, thank you. Yes, Kanus, that wily cat is up to something." At a signal from Arias, Kanus moved to the door, flung it open quickly and glanced back and forth in the halls. The pine marten shut it quietly and nodded back. Lowering his voice further Arias continued, "We'll be well away from here before he can spring it on us. Yes, Kanus, you're coming with us." Arias added the last bit when both cats noticed his change in expression. The pine marten seemed torn between looking mortified and looking gleeful.

"Arias, I should stay here. I know too many of Lord Markot's secrets for him to just put me to the back of his mind. He'll send bounty hunters after us."

"I know, but both of us are willing to risk that for you, right, Beck?"

Entirely absorbed into the conversation, Beck nodded. _My plan might just work with these two on my side. _Beck pulled himself out of his muses as Arias proceeded.

"You are just as susceptible to any plan of his as we are now that he knows where your loyalties lie. To stay could mean torture for our whereabouts, or to a lesser degree, death. You must come."

Throughout the lecture of reasons Kanus' face was stony, though he knew the consequences of his actions as well as they did. Perhaps even better than they did. He finally agreed, relenting reluctantly, and then he turned to scowl at Beck. "Curse you for being the nicest creature in this castle, Beck. If you'd left me for your father to torture, I would still not say a word of your departure."

Smirking at the pine marten's mock chivalry, Arias answered for both of them with a similar show, "But we wouldn't be able to bear the fact that you were suffering for us. Now that you've been promoted from servant to friend, I regret to ask you to bring the three of us food. I would like a word with Beck." A gleam and plead in Arias' green eyes said he would prefer to be alone.

Kanus understood. Servant or not, he bowed deeply to them before walking swiftly out the door. As soon as his pawsteps receded from their hearing, Arias did as Kanus did before and looked for spies. After closing the door he pushed his ear against it. He was there a full minute before he returned to Beck's bed. Sitting on the side, he helped Beck sit up before gripping his shoulders.

Beck stared questioningly into those identical light green eyes that had averted themselves to the crisp sheets of the bed. The older cat seemed to be struggling with what he wanted to say. When he found it, he mended eye contact.

"Beck, as I've said before, you have been an interrogator by father's orders for a long time. Longer than I could imagine. I'm not sure what Arik's intentions are, but he seems to be trying to pressure his sons to reveal which one is strongest. Undoubtedly for stability when the old cat finally dies and needs an heir to assume the throne."

The wildcat broke off, grimacing as he struggled to come up with words again. Beck gently pressed him with a nod. Arias found them again, "What I'm trying to say is, though you don't like it, I commend you for enduring this. Going against father's orders isn't much easier, but the pain you no doubt bear exceeds that tenfold."

"It took little time for me to break. I appear fearless, powerful, and tough, but inside…my mind crumbled like a sand castle being stepped on. All of my bitterness and hate was washed away, like the tide coming in to scatter the remnants of that castle and offer me a clean slate for rebuilding. Broken. Broken soldiers and warriors are good for only one thing: following orders. I'm not completely sure what father intends for us, but I imagine he's weeding out the weak. However broken I may be, I am determined to fight against that."

Arias stopped for a moment to breathe. Beck could see the fear, but he thought he also saw that same spark of determination in his gaze. "Beck, you and I both know that if he was testing our physical strength you would not be a fit hair to assume the throne. I imagine he will be announcing his succession once he gets rid of you. But you're clinging, Beck. You're clinging to sanity and what you know is right with a tenacity father should be proud of. When you're gone, any salvation this castle had will be resting with you."

Arias suddenly laughed aloud, chuckling while Beck stared with an arched eyebrow. Shaking his head, no doubt at himself, he said, "I sound like a tongue-flapping, windbag. To cut right to the point, I am proud of you. I know you probably didn't realize what you were doing, but I do."

Beck smiled swallowed and gave him a half-smile, blushing modestly under his fur and glad that his brother couldn't see it. The broken wildcat then hugged him fiercely, asking over Beck's shoulder, "Would you allow your pitifully weak brother to hug his much stronger one?"

Beck shook his head, amused at Arias' theatrics, and then completed the hug. Though his throat still throbbed—the pain in his head had thankfully subsided—he still said, "Of course, but I do not think you are as broken as you say."

Arias gave a sneeze of laughter and broke the hug. "You're still more impressive." At this time Kanus took the opportunity to come in, lugging a huge tray that caused him to sway dangerously. Arias leapt up immediately to help the frantic pine marten.

Forgotten in the time Arias helped Kanus, Beck studied his brother. As much as he despised his job, he had become adept at distinguishing the truth from the lies. Under his powerful scrutiny, he could tell that every word Arias had said was true. The abrupt change in Arias' behavior still bothered him, as though he expected his brother to spring a trap, but then he shook himself. _Pull yourself together! Your brother is not Arik Markot, and now you know he will never be like him._

Beck pushed his suspicion away and dragged his mind back to the present. Kanus was bearing a small tray with a steaming bowl and tumbler. Beck frowned up at him. "It's soup for your throat. It might be too much for your throat to take solid food."

Beck opened his mouth to furiously protest when his throat choose that moment to seize and wracked his body with painful coughs. Both of their knowing smiles on them irritated Beck to no end. He gestured rudely as Kanus forced the liquid food down his throat. Arias sat on the cot across the room, hiding his laughter with a birds-meat sandwich.

"Kanus, I can feed myself. I am not a kitten. I still don't think it's fair you get real food though," Beck said hoarsely, trying to ignore the pain with every mouthful of freshly cooked tomato soup. Kanus joined Arias on a cushion, reaching for his own sandwich—duck roasted to perfection with wet green lettuce between two pieces of bread straight from the oven. Just the thought of it caused Beck to start drooling.

He continued silently grousing, but a sudden thought came to him as his next spoonful touched his lips, "Kanus, did you ever think that this might be poisoned?"

Kanus stopped chewing immediately and appeared about ready to drop the sandwich like it was a scorpion. "Well, no, but wouldn't we be dead by now? Your father wouldn't want to dawdle with you anymore than he must, right?"

Both wildcats soon had exchanged worried expressions until Kanus flashed a smile. "Yes, it had occurred to me. Lord Markot would sooner kill us himself than with poison. Don't look that way! I checked two times to make sure it wasn't poisonous. I needled the information out of the chef and his assistants; they're all terrible at lying. I mentioned poison and they just laughed. No feeble chuckles or shifty eyes. I also had a bite of everything once I was out of their sight. I'm alive though, aren't I?" Kanus laughed wholeheartedly, gleeful that he caught onto something before they had. "Trust me, friend, I checked."

Beck met both their eyes seriously, his good humor put aside. They were no longer amused either, looking at Beck as he spoke, "Trust. It is something we'll have to learn to do if the three of us are going to bring down Arik Markot. Or escape. Are we all trustworthy? No oath would reassure ourselves that one of us won't stab the rest of us in the back while we're sleeping." They nodded wearily. The young wildcat continued, "Can we trust each other's word?"

There was a stretch of silence when Arias sighed and said, "This is true. But trust? It's all in faith."

_None of us have a choice. We will either escape together or perish alone, _Beck thought and felt the weight of the future fall onto his shoulders all at once.

Kanus took the broken moment to dismiss himself. "Best not to cause suspicion by staying here. Lord Markot still calls me to carry out some of his lesser tasks. Rest well, Beckart."

Now that the tension had passed, Beck lay back in the bed for a moment with his eyes closed. _Arias' bed is so soft compared to mine. _ He flinched at the thought of his frigid bedroom, still resenting that he had to go. Stifling a yawn as he made to step onto the floor, he said, "I best be off, too, Arias. My absence would be no less dubious."

Beck's footpaws barely touched the floor before Arias rushed over and pushed him back, "Oh, no you don't, Beckart. _I_ will sleep in your bed. I will not let you freeze to death after I've wasted my time making you better." He lowered his voice to a whisper, "Besides we have plans to make."

For one wild moment, Beck thought he was going to suggest a scheme to knock Kanus out of their trio before his wits pounded out the paranoia. _Trust, remember, Beck? You lectured them on it, but you're the one who needed it most._ Pushing his previous thoughts aside, he asked just as quietly, "About what?"

"'About what?'" Arias grinned, "About escaping of course. We need to have a plan!"

"But what about Kanus?"

"I'll tell him in the morning as I snarl at him to fetch me towels for a bath," He replied with a shrug.

Over the next few hours, Beck and Arias put their heads together. There were many suggestions and they were forced to abandon most of them to the fire. Eventually they pieced together a plan that held scraps of Beck's former one. A time frame was the next order of business and Beck would not budge on his single stipulation: when the next prisoner came. Arias patiently tried to coax him out of it, but he found only exaggeration

"Why, Beck? A prisoner could come a month from now. Lord Markot could've well been disposed of us by then."

Beck nodded but he continued clench his jaw stubbornly. "Summer is almost here, Arias! Wanderlust is on all the creatures; we've been getting those innocents for twelve years. Why should their habits change now? And I promised myself I would help the next prisoner!"

Arias nodded, with hesitation and exhaustion, "Fine, Fine. We'll help the next prisoner, but this could very well destroy our plans. The prisoner could come earlier than we expect!"

Beck grinned and laid a paw on the older cat's shoulder. "We won't be off guard. We'll do everything early. Tomorrow?"

Arias sighed and agreed, "Tomorrow." With this, Arias got up and stretched and said, "Night, brother."

Getting up to lock the door and blow out the last candle, but when he came to the fire he gave himself a moment. He stared wistfully at the dying embers, running through every minute of the night. _It's been years since I was so sure of myself._

With a contented smile, he doused burning coals.


End file.
